PURSUIT
The shanty-boat, the sagging wharf, and the waving men grew small in
the distance. The forest closed in once more. At last the clearing
passed from sight as the launch, chugging determinedly, rounded a
shadowed bend in the river. Pud and Tim sighed with relief. Harmon,
as solemn as an owl, perched on the stern and stared curiously at
Gladys Ermintrude. The girl, preparatory to her flight, had somehow
struggled into a very tight sweater of a deep orange shade which,
beyond the shadow of a doubt, harmonized sadly with her tanned face
and copper-hued hair. She had brought with her an ancient satchel
encompassed, at one end, by a rusty-black strap and at the other a
piece of clothes-line. It was the satchel that again aroused Pud’s
sleeping suspicions.
‘Say, if you were kidnaped,’ he asked, ‘how’d you happen to bring all
your clothes along with you?’
‘Sakes alive!’ exclaimed Gladys Ermintrude. ‘Why, those aren’t _all_ my
clothes! Why, I’ve just got a few simple things in the bag, hardly a
change of attire.’
‘Just the same,’ persisted Pud, ‘if you were kidnaped――’
‘Gosh,’ expostulated Tim, who, being somewhat susceptible to feminine
charm, chivalrously disapproved of Pud’s incredulous attitude, ‘why
wouldn’t she take some duds with her?’
‘Well, because as a usual thing kidnaped folks don’t have time to pack
bags. When you kidnap a person, you just grab him quick and throw him
into a――an automobile and beat it!’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Gladys Ermintrude in a somewhat superior
manner that increased Pud’s growing dislike. ‘You see, they came for me
when I was all alone in the house, and after they had bound me up and
thrown me helpless on――on the floor――’
‘Gosh!’ muttered Tim.
Harmon chortled, whether from horror or delight it would have been
difficult to say.
‘They got the bag and made me tell them what to put in it,’ continued
Gladys Ermintrude. ‘But, sakes alive, I simply couldn’t think of
half the things I really needed, and I came away without my negligee
and――oh, several other things. I really don’t see how I managed to get
along as well as I did!’
‘Well, then,’ said Pud, ‘what did they do it for?’
The girl’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why, for the reward, of course!’
‘Sure,’ assented Tim. ‘Folks always offer rewards, Pud.’
Pud looked unconvinced. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said, eyeing Gladys Ermintrude
with no enthusiasm. Then: ‘Who were those men?’ he asked.
‘They were’――the girl’s gaze wavered momentarily――‘they were a Mr.
Liscomb and――’
‘But that’s your name!’ exclaimed Tim.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He’s my uncle. The tallest one, I mean.’
‘Oh, shucks!’ said Pud. ‘You can’t be kidnaped by your own uncle! Gee,
I knew there was something queer about it!’
‘You can, too,’ responded the girl indignantly. ‘I guess an uncle can
be just as――just as villainous as any one. You don’t know my uncle Asa!’
‘Who’s the other one?’ asked Pud.
‘Uncle Asa’s brother. His name’s William.’
‘Well, he’s your uncle, too, isn’t he?’ demanded Pud impatiently.
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Well, but, gee, he’s got to be! If he’s your uncle’s brother, he’s
your uncle, too. Isn’t he, Tim?’
‘Well,’ began Tim hesitantly. But at that moment Harmon broke in
with the warning announcement that there was a boat coming down the
river, and the matter of relationship was dropped. Pud viewed the still
distant craft and decided on discretion.
‘They might see you and tell your _uncles_,’ he said to the girl,
emphasizing the last word triumphantly. ‘You sit down here and I’ll
throw the end of the tent over you till they get by.’
‘It isn’t “they,” it’s “him,”’ answered Gladys Ermintrude. ‘It’s Pete
Minger, and he’s going after them.’
‘After those――after your uncles?’
She nodded cheerfully. ‘They’re going farther down the river. Pete’s
going to tow them. He’s sort of late and――’
‘He’s coming like the dickens,’ exclaimed Tim admiringly. ‘Gosh, that
boat goes, don’t it?’
Pud hastily pushed the seemingly unwilling girl to a position beside
the tent and drew a corner of a flap over her. ‘You keep still,’ he
warned her. There was a smothered response that sounded rebellious.
‘You scrooch down, too, Harmon. We don’t want any trouble, I guess. You
sort of turn your back, Tim.’
The oncoming launch bore down fast. In the stern lolled a
disreputable-looking individual in a torn khaki shirt, hatless, smoking
a pipe. He waved carelessly as he passed, but Pud saw that he was
plainly interested in the _Vengance_. Even after he had passed, he kept
his gaze upstream for several minutes.
‘All right,’ said Pud finally, throwing off the tent flap. ‘You can get
up now.’
Gladys Ermintrude arose with a very red countenance and sneezed several
times. ‘I don’t see,’ she announced vindictively, ‘what you had to do
that for. I guess my――those awful men saw the name on this boat, and I
guess Pete Minger saw it, too. So what sense was there in putting me
under that horrid, smelly old tent, I just wish you’d please tell me?’
‘Gosh, that’s so,’ agreed Tim. Pud, feeling rather foolish, merely
looked haughty and made no answer. Tim went on, a tone of uneasiness
in his voice, ‘Look here, Pud, suppose those men――those uncles, you
know――I mean those one uncle and――’
‘Oh, get on with it,’ interrupted Pud.
‘Well, suppose they get this fellow, Pete Something, to take them in
his launch and come after us?’
‘Suppose they do?’
‘Well, my goodness, it’s a heap faster than this boat! They’d catch us
in no time! And, gosh, Pud, if they did catch us, I guess they’d be
pretty mad and I don’t know what would happen!’
‘No more do I,’ said Pud gloomily. ‘But it was your idea, this rescue
business. _I_ didn’t want to do it. _I_ didn’t――’
‘I do believe that’s just what they’ll do,’ broke in the girl
excitedly. ‘Isn’t it just thrilling? That launch of Pete Minger’s is
the fastest thing on the river, I guess!’
‘You seem mighty pleased about it,’ said Pud bitterly. ‘I dare say you
don’t care a bean if we get plugged full of bullets!’
‘I do, too, but they haven’t got any bullets. It’s just bird-shot.
Anyway, they probably won’t catch us.’
‘Why won’t they?’ demanded Tim eagerly.
‘Because it’s getting pretty dark, and if we go up Fish-Hawk Creek and
hide under the bushes, I guess they won’t find us.’
‘Fish-Hawk Creek?’ inquired Pud. ‘Where’s that?’
‘Just a short distance. It’s the first creek you find. I think I can
tell when we get to it. I’ve been there lots of times with my――with
friends.’
‘Kidnaped, I suppose,’ said Pud sarcastically.
‘Aw, Pud!’ begged Tim.
Just then came a pathetic voice from the shadowy figure of Harmon in
the stern. ‘Ain’ we goin’ have no supper?’ he asked.
It came to Pud and Tim instantly that they were very, very hungry, but
Pud shook his head. ‘Got to wait till we land,’ he declared. Tim sighed
deeply and Harmon relapsed into a melancholy silence. Pud yielded the
wheel to Tim and tried to add to the boat’s speed, but no amount of
oiling or coaxing made any difference. The _Vengance_ plodded doggedly
along at some four miles through the growing darkness while Pud, gazing
back down the dim stream, watched for pursuers. Presently he broke
into a conversation between Tim and Gladys Ermintrude with: ‘How much
farther’s this creek?’
The girl, recalled to her responsibilities, looked about her a moment.
Then, ‘Sakes alive,’ she exclaimed in surprise, ‘I do believe we’ve
gone by it! Didn’t you see a little opening on that side a few minutes
ago?’
‘No, I didn’t!’ answered Pud shortly. ‘Are you sure we’ve passed it?’
‘We-ell, I’m not absolutely――Yes, I am, too! There’s Peacher’s Bend
right up there where the two tall pines stick up, and Fish-Hawk Creek’s
a quarter of a mile below that. My, weren’t we stupid to go by it?’
‘Weren’t _we_ stupid!’ echoed Pud disgustedly. ‘I thought you were
going to tell us when we got to it! Gee, I never saw a girl yet who
was any good in a pinch! What’ll we do now? Is there another creek
anywhere near?’
‘No, there isn’t. Not for more than two miles, I guess. And I don’t
think you’re very polite to your guests to talk like that! I’m sure if
I was running this boat――’
‘Well, you aren’t,’ snapped Pud crossly. ‘And I’m going to turn back,’
he added defiantly.
‘We-ell,’ muttered Tim, ‘if you think we’d ought to――’
‘Well, gee, if we don’t those fellows will catch us easy, won’t they?
_Some one’s_ got to decide _something_, I should think! We can’t _all_
spend our time just _talking_! You take the engine and I’ll see if we
can turn around without hitting the bank.’
They could and did and then Pud ran the launch as close as he dared
to the left-hand bank and went slowly back downstream in search of
the mouth of Fish-Hawk Creek. It was too dark now to see anything
distinctly save the steely ribbon of river where the last of the
daylight reached it through the walls of forest. Pud’s spirits were
getting very low. They usually did get low if he went much beyond his
accustomed time for food. He was taking some slight pleasure in a
mental picture of Gladys Ermintrude walking the plank when something
leaped into his vision far down the stream. More than once already he
had imagined just such an object, but this time it wasn’t imagination.
Harmon saw it, too, and remarked the fact with melancholy alacrity.
And then they all saw it and for a moment nothing was said aboard the
launch. Then it was the girl who broke the eloquent silence.
‘Sakes alive!’ she giggled. ‘Isn’t this just too dramatic?’
‘If you weren’t a girl,’ began Pud between his teeth.
‘Gosh,’ murmured Tim, ‘I guess we’re in for it!’
‘Can’ do nothin’ to me,’ announced Harmon defiantly. ‘I ain’ kidnup
nobody!’
‘If we could only find that creek!’ muttered Pud.
The other boat was coming fast, fairly eating up the space between, and
now they could hear very plainly the steady _plup-plup_ of her exhaust.
Pud desperately wondered if, should they stop and huddle close to the
bank in the shadows, they could escape being seen. Then a wiser plan
came to him and his spirits rose buoyantly.
‘I’m going right on past ’em,’ he announced. ‘They won’t be looking for
us to come this way, and they won’t suspect, I guess, when they see
the name on the bow isn’t the same! You get down and cover yourself
up, Gladys Evinrude. You see that she don’t show, Tim. Harmon, you
scrooch down on the bottom and stay there. You sit up here with me,
Tim. Make-believe you’re asleep. Put your arms on the――That’s it! Here
they come! Every one keep still and, no matter what happens, don’t say
a word or make a sound!’
The two launches drew nearer and nearer, Minger’s boat in mid-stream,
the _Jolly Rodger_ close to the bank. Pud leaned carelessly against the
gunwale, trying to express drowsiness by his attitude. Now he could see
that the approaching boat held three forms, one seated and one erect at
the bow, another standing near the middle. Then a strong flash-light
swept across the few yards of intervening water and a hoarse voice
hailed.
‘_Hi, there! Slow down!_’ it commanded.